Would You Like To Date My Friend, Chiba Mamoru?
by FloraOne
Summary: "So tell me," Minako demanded sternly, standing accusingly in her door. "Why exactly is your first instinct when falling head over panties for a guy to try and set him up with Ami!" - A RomCom Written For Queen Risa in the Fall In Love Fanfic Exchange 2019
1. Part I

_So, QueenRisa, I am not your original gifter. Your original gifter dropped out after the deadline, and so I volunteered to write for you instead, and that's why you're getting this so, so late! But, once again, I got to write for a friend, and that feels very, very special! So here you have your (second?) very own college (party) AU just for you, love! I hope you enjoy it!_

_And also, this fic ran away from me, and so you'll get it in two parts! _

* * *

Would You Like To Date My Friend, Chiba Mamoru?  
Written For Queen Risa in the Fall In Love Fanfic Exchange 2019

* * *

"So tell me," Minako demanded sternly, standing accusingly in her door. "Why _exactly_ is your first instinct when falling head over panties for a guy to try and set him up with _Ami_?!"

Usagi groaned, fled from her door into the kitchen portion of her little one room apartment, grabbed a cushion from her tiny kitchen bench and hit her head right into it.

"You don't underftand!" she cried into the fabric, voice completely muffled.

Minako looked at her sternly, almost scathingly, slamming the door of Usagi's too big fridge in her tiny kitchen unit shut, and with the most eyes accusing, sat down across from her with a popsicle pointed at her, slammed a bottle on the tiny fold-up table and hit Usagi with the biggest glare she'd ever been addressed with.

"Then make me understand!" Minako cried, all frustration and gorgeous party outfit and raised hands.

Usagi pursed her lips, reached across the table to grab the bottle of strawberry vodka Minako had apparently so wisely stolen from the party, decided to forgo the glasses on the table, and untwisted the cap to take a swig directly from it. This was apparently rock bottom anyway, so why not? Besides, it was 2am and she'd just fled from a party, so…

"Usagi—" Minako hissed once more, a little louder over all the party noise that still sounded from Unazuki's very much larger apartment down the hall, indicating her head back to her bright yellow apartment door. Or really, towards where Usagi had rushed away from, down the hall, on Unazuki's couch, that mop of black hair belonging to the hunk of man she'd just left behind.

Usagi got up, turned, stepped over her current stacks of Manga and discarded clothes and around her little paravent and collapsed face first, cute little mini skirt and all, onto her plushy soft bed and groaned even louder.

Usagi blindly made grabby hands outstretched from the bed, and because Minako was amazing, of course the strawberry vodka came knocked into it, her mattress noisily moving as Minako sat down next to her, stroking her hand across Usagi's scalp. Minako might be mad at her, but she was still the best. And so Usagi cradled the bottle and whined some more.

Alcohol did seem like a good idea right about now.

"Talk to me," Minako demanded. "What the _hell_ happened there?"

Usagi grunted harshly, turned onto her side, and allowed to her lips to fall in a tragically frustrated pout as she found her friend's semi-sympathetic eyes. Outside of the sanctity of her little dingy hole, the music was loud, Unazuki's party was still going strong, and there _really_ was no denying she'd _liked_ the guy. Minako could read her better than herself, so she could save herself the denial.

Instead she let out a frustrated sigh and turned back around with a huff, repeatedly hitting her face into her innocent pillow. Her voice was low, much lower than usual, and she was sure Minako had trouble hearing her over the adjacent party noise and the obstructive bedding, but…

"You haven't heard him talk," Usagi mumbled into fluffy, softest cotton. "He's all med school and scholarships and stuff. I didn't even understand half the _words_ he used. This guy is clearly not for _me_."

Minako raised an eyebrow. "Oh, that looked differently from my view, let me tell you."

Usagi rolled her eyes. Bit back the comment that Minako didn't know everything – but she didn't want to fight. Instead she hefted herself up – irritated with herself and like, _everything_, and pulled on Minako's chic faux leather pant leg to make her change the subject or maybe go back to stroking her pathetic head of hair.

"You should get back to the party," Usagi mumbled dejectedly.

"Only if you come with me!" Minako scolded, shaking her a little.

The pillows moved jerkily with the determined shaking of her head into it. "I can't," she cried.

That guy was like, way too hot. And she just… It certainly didn't help that even after she'd fled from his proximity, she'd felt his eyes on her for the rest of the evening. If she went back there now, drunk as she was… She'd totally exploit those sexy eyes, drag him out of Unazuki's apartment and into her's instead. Her bed was right _here_ and…

Minako hrmphed, but the bed moved again, and she'd gotten up, and Usagi pouted some more. Yeah, she told her to get back to the party, but actually, she really didn't want to be alone right now.

She turned her head, propped it onto her elbows and pouted even harder yet again, but somehow, obviously drifted off.

And so Usagi was surprised when, a little later, Minako tugged on her thigh-high socks, rousing her, and found her in one of Usagi's pjs trying to help her undress.

"Scoot over, you absolute nutcase," Minako groused, successfully helping to rid Usagi of most of her uncomfortable clothes and chucking her giant Princess Zelda T Shirt at her, then crawled into bed with her.

Really, Usagi was touched, dressed and undressed clumsily in her drunk state, and then pressed her too-hot face into Minako's back.

"Yeah, yeah," Minako grumbled, petting her hand.

* * *

Mamoru really hadn't even wanted to come here tonight.

College parties weren't his thing at all and the fact that this was one hosted by Unazuki of all people really didn't make it better. The parties by 'Furuhata's little sister' were _famous_ across Keio _and_ Waseda, because she lived in one of the apartments above her parent's arcade, the building owned by her family, and only a handful of other tenants living in the complex all of which were close to her age – meaning, in conclusion, Unazuki could do what she wanted in that building and a few of his co-eds had unfortunately recently learned that he knew the girl personally.

But Kobayashi had basically begged him to take him there, overdramatically following Mamoru around for days and sitting in classes beside him only to whisper all this nonsense to him while they actually ought to concentrate. About this being his last chance, soon they'd be working physicians and how would he meet a girl _then_ once he was chained to a hospital 24/7?

Mamoru really had no clue why he'd relented in the end, but he supposed he just wanted to be free of Kobayashi's constant nagging presence. And so, he'd dressed in tight black jeans, bought an Omiyage for Unazuki, and introduced a very obviously nervous and excited Kobayashi to a few people and that was that, he hadn't even seen Kobayashi for the rest of the evening.

Objectively, it wasn't even that bad of a party. The music was lively but not too loud to drown out conversation, the crowds of lanky almost-adult people here seemed actually interested in talking to one another, and the whole place seemed quite animated, if very, very crowded. And yet he still was left standing in the corner by the window, the neon sign of Crown arcade jutting into the view over the sill and illuminating the dark street and buildings across in bright artificial colors, nursing a bottle of cheap beer and trying not to have to engage all too much.

It was the third time he'd glanced at his phone for the time, trying to estimate how soon he could leave without it seeming impolite, when _she_ walked in.

Long blonde hair, endlessly long legs peeking from a skirt way shorter than her school uniform used to be, her smile infectiously lighting up the room, eyes the kind he'd always wanted to drown in – or even be looked at with, really.

Odango Atama.

_Here_. What was she doing _here_?!

His breath suddenly came a little shorter. Suddenly, he cursed himself that he hadn't made more of an effort to look good before he came here. Suddenly, when she made the rounds and hugged and greeted various people in scattered groups and holding her hand out to those in the groups she didn't know, he cursed himself he hadn't mingled more – if he'd been small-talking in one of these groups right this second, he'd… he'd be getting introduced to her right now.

And suddenly Kobayashi's overdramatic whining wasn't over-dramatic at all anymore. This _was_ their last chance. This was _his_ last chance. Tonight. Mamoru was sure of it. If he didn't find the courage to approach her tonight, where he had alcohol and apparently mutual acquaintances and an informal, totally uncreepy reason to talk? If this didn't work tonight, it never would.

He stared as she hopped up towards a third group of people and fell into the arms of a blonde girl with red lipstick and a red glitter bow in her hair, the only color in her otherwise all black outfit. She was greeted warmly, and hugged a few guys standing around in close proximity and his chest tightened with each and every of her smiles and laughs and familiar touches.

Someone called her over. More hugs.

She was tiny. She had to reach up for almost every hug, and every time she did, the sliver of skin between her too short skirt and her thigh-high socks grew larger and Mamoru hated himself deeply for noticing.

He froze. The same as he'd ever done. He gripped his bottle too tight and stared at her and shrunk back, the terror gripping his heart that was old and familiar – terror of letting her slip through his fingers _again_ as well as the almost more crippling terror that he might say the wrong thing, might not get the right words out that made her want to take a second look at him, too.

He only got one chance at a first impression.

Not that he hadn't had a lot of chances _for_ that first impression but botched them all.

He'd sat with her on the same bus for years. For years – 4 whole years at least – he'd listened in to inappropriately loud conversations carrying across the whole vehicle that she'd had with her friends. For four years he'd watched her. At first, he'd been totally annoyed.

A loud, impolite, naïve middle school kid entertaining the whole bus with her nonsense. He'd always suppressed a groan when she got on 2 stations after his. And then slowly… watching her, those bright eyes as they cheered up her friends, that one time as she comforted that quietly sniffling girl in the same school uniform as her… The way she smiled and hopped with her eyes closed as she listened to music on her phone, lost to the world, or how she giggled as she typed furiously into the same device… Mamoru hadn't even noticed when he'd stopped being annoyed when she'd hopped onto the bus, and instead held his breath when she did. Or how when she didn't – when the stop came and she wasn't at it, or when he saw her run after the bus breathlessly but it had already left without her, his day was a sure one track way of becoming miserable.

He hadn't noticed the change. But he definitely noticed that when, one year into this, for the first time ever she'd sat down in the seat right next to him, and he'd first been greeted with the stray thought that maybe… maybe he could introduce himself to her, he'd frozen up. His whole body had vibrated in that seat, acutely aware of her presence next to him, and he'd hugged the window too tightly as to not accidentally touch her in the least bit, trying to work up the courage to… And then she'd gotten up and left the bus, and he realised he didn't know how to do this and he certainly had missed his stop, and felt even creepier that now he knew which school she went to.

He knew a number of things about her. She talked blaringly loudly after all. And he decided this just wouldn't do. He'd stood in the far back from that day on, and hadn't tried to approach her at all. He didn't want to be the creepy stalker on the bus. He wasn't like that. And so from then on, he'd ignored her. Or tried to.

He didn't know what it was about her. There was something about her that just… screamed at him. Pulled him to her. It felt scary and inevitable and overbearing and a little like he had to protect her from it.

And then the dreams started. Weird snippets he couldn't place but were definitely her face, and her shoes on his head, a locket and a melody, and telling her to find a cool boyfriend. They were vague and weird and fled him quickly when he fully woke up, but they made him feel like the biggest creep in the whole fucking world and how could he _approach_ her like that?

So, the thought of going up to her and talking to her was quite… unnerving. However, if the chance ever came... If she ever like, stumbled into him (she did that a lot) or dropped something (she did that even more) and he was near, he could apologize, he could say something. He could charm her into some kind of conversation. But it hadn't happened. She _had_ run into him – a few times. Sometimes not on this bus, but the middle of the street. But everytime he'd been lost for words when those bright eyes looked at him in shock and apology and without any sense of recognition, and he'd just nodded and they'd shuffled along.

Because what would he say? Yeah, I know you, I sometimes dream about you, I've been staring at you for a few years now, you take the same bus I do.

And it was stupid. Yes, he knew bits and pieces about her, but… who was to say that if he got to know her for real, he'd even like her? Wasn't this all in his head? This was all frustratingly embarrassing, and it made it all worse.

Besides, he'd thought he had plenty of time to try and get this right.

He hadn't. Somehow, four years had passed and while Azabu and Keio had, with a calculated detour factored in, allowed him to take the same bus still, Odango Atama graduated Juuban High apparently, and then stopped taking it. One day to the next and she'd vanished from his routine completely.

He'd lost his chance.

Except he hadn't. A year later than that, give or take a month, and he'd spotted her on the Toei Oedo line. She's been wearing a corporate costume and her hair had been in a _wrong_ _hairstyle_, but it was definitely _her_. But chatting someone up standing next to you on the metro was somehow almost indefinitely worse than a schoolboy attempting to small talk with another schoolgirl who took the same bus as you every morning, and he'd let that chance go by, too.

He still sometimes mentally went through what he should have said to her that day, what he _could_ have said to her that day. In the shower, his mind would drift and he'd introduce himself to her, smooth and not creepy at all, in the bus, in the metro, on the street when she'd barrelled into him, he'd stuck out his hand confidently. 'I'm Chiba Mamoru', he'd say. 'I believe we take the same bus. I see you around a lot.'

He never had.

And now here she was. One last chance.

But his heart was beating right out of his chest and his hands were so clammy it was downright embarrassing and he felt a little bit like choking when he found himself behind her, attempting to approach her, and lost his nerve again.

This was ridiculous. Sure, he wasn't the most social of all people, but he had absolutely no problem approaching people. He was charming. He was smooth and collected and respectable. Why couldn't he do this?

Because he only had one shot. One try to get this right.

He hid in the kitchen and tried not to watch her like a creep.

He collapsed with his back against the fridge, glass rattling inside noisily, and ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

It was when he exhaled deeply and steeled himself to walk back out and try again – when he stepped back out into the ruckus, that she barrelled right into him.

Had her glass not been empty, its contents would have landed all over him.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried and looked up at him, those absolutely _stunning_ blue eyes gazing right at him and it was worse than he had ever anticipated.

He froze up like the creepy imbecile he was, clammy hands held up and away from her. This was it. This was _it_. He glanced down at her. Just a second, just barely, just briefly, and swallowed, speechless. Why did she have to look so frigging _cute_?! She was _tiny_.

And then she narrowed her eyes.

"Did you just check me out?" she accused him in somewhat of a glower.

Oh shit. Oh no. Oh _no_.

He felt the heat rush into his face, felt the panic grip him tight and make his stupid hands even damper. "No!" he choked out, stupidly. "No, I didn't."

She threw him a look, somewhat amused, somewhat… what exactly? "You totally just checked me out."

"I..."

He opened his mouth. Closed it. No, no, no. Take that back, he needed to start over, he only _had _that one chance…

But really, nothing wanted to come out of his mouth.

He was smart, ok? He was a Keio medical student, top of his class, and she saw none of this, just a stupid gaping moron leering down at her. He could do _better_, goddammit, he was capable of impressing her. He _was_!

"So, what's the verdict?" She'd lifted half her lips and an eyebrow to accompany them.

"What?" his stupid mouth said.

Her half smile quirked, she cocked her head a little. "You checked me out. What's the verdict?"

_What_.

But he was back to gaping down at her, not moving to let her through, not capable of speech, and she tilted her head a little more to study him.

"7? 6? 4? What am I to you?" she said with a soft, patient, _challenging _smile. She was looking _up_ at him. At _him_!

"What?!" he shrieked, scandalized.

But then it got _worse_. Because then she was checking _him_ out, and she was _frowning_.

"… Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked with a wrinkle between her brows.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. No, no, no. Please, no.

His heart was in his gut and he's never stuttered so much in his life and really, he needed someone to step in. Fast. "Uh… yes, I've… I'm uh.." he started, swallowed, got a grip. "I'm pretty sure we used to take the same bus."

She blinked at him, her face jumping back a little.

"Years ago," he finished lamely.

He exhaled slowly, prayed his poker face was safe and steady and unreadable.

She smiled. "And you remember me?"

He pressed his lips together. Forced a smile and a shrug. He could feel his heartbeat in his gums, but somehow… somehow he was sure she couldn't _see_ it…

"You're pretty recognizable," he said, and his voice sounded too steady.

Her nose scrunched up and it looked too cute. "I am?" she asked.

He shrugged, nodded towards the first thing he felt was safe. "That hairstyle stands out, I'd reckon."

"Right," she said, and it sounded too final.

But then she thrust out her hand. "Well, Tsukino Usagi!"

He stared at it. Tiny hand, long fingers in proportion. Transparent nail polish. They looked soft.

…And his hands were entirely, embarrassingly sweaty.

"That's me," Usagi's voice said, a little softer. But he was looking at her hand. "I'm Usagi. And you are…"

"Chiba Mamoru," he croaked out automatically, and stuffed his hands into his pockets, and hated himself for it a little more.

But she smiled. It didn't reach her eyes that much anymore, but she smiled. And then she lowered her hand without commenting. He hadn't taken it. Hadn't shaken it. He just… _hadn't_.

"Nice to meet you, Chiba Mamoru," she said. It sounded pleasant. Polite. Distanced.

"You… you too, Tsukino Usagi," he said with a frown.

And then the silence stretched, and he was still in her way, that empty glass in her left hand, and she motioned with her eyes into the kitchen, which he still blocked the entrance of, and he _leapt_ to the side.

But that was a mistake, because then she turned to leave, and _no_, this had been his _chance_…

"Well, I guess I'll see you around, then, Chiba Mamoru," she said with a soft smile and dismissive nod.

No… wait!

And then she'd slipped past him into Unazuki's kitchen, greeting someone else in there who she recognized.

Shit. Shitshitshit.

His heart hammered in his throat harder than ever. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. He didn't get to take that back, right?

* * *

Every so often, Usagi glanced back at him. Every time it happened, he whipped his head around and said _anything_ to _anyone_.

Now that she was noticing him (how come he'd always hoped she would? This was _horrible_!) he hoped so hard it wasn't at all apparent that he was almost physically incapable of not letting his eyes stray over to her, that it wasn't too apparent he had eyes only for _her_.

She was the belle of the ball, the life of the party, as she _would_ be. She laughed loudly and touched people's elbows and clinked glasses in loud cheers of 'kanpai!'. She wriggled her butt when she was excitedly telling a story and she wriggled her whole body cutely to the music that came over Unazuki's speakers even when _no one_ was dancing, and snuggled against her friends and let her glass be refilled graciously aplenty.

She'd bounced from group to group, kept hugging Unazuki sweetly from behind from time to time, threw out compliments to people like tossing candy, giggled at things some douche was whispering into her ear as he touched her arm.

Never in his whole life had Mamoru listened so _acutely_ to random people's conversations. Never had he felt so absolutely _lost_ at what to say, how to engage. He was _desperately_, feverishly listening for an _in_. For something to join in for. For something to sidle up and start a conversation.

This was a college party. As Kobayashi had been so annoyingly and insistently pointing out all week to him, this kind of occasion was _made_ to get to know strangers in a casual setting.

And then his heart nearly stopped, because Kobayashi had found a new target on his girlfriend-hunt, and it was _Usagi_.

And suddenly his hand was forced, and he found himself walking to her, his legs carrying him without his consent. Because Kobayashi was _charming_. Kobayashi was funny and intelligent and a med student and he was—

"—no time like the present, right?" Kobayashi was drawling. "Once I'll be chained to a hospital, always on call, sleeping in the break room bunks, how would I even expect to meet someone if I don't do it _now_ while I still have a life?"

Usagi was crinkling her nose as she laughed up at him. "I _guess_ I can see the logic in that logic," she said sweetly, giggling.

Kobayashi's grin was toothy but sweet, his words more forward than his sheepishly joking tone. "So, just, you know, _hypothetically_ speaking, how's your stand on going on a date with a future docto—"

"I'm very sorry if he's coming on too strong. He's had a bit to drink and he's been looking forward to this party for a while now."

He almost bodily shoved into Kobayashi, planting himself next to the guy and in front of Usagi.

"Hey, I'm not drunk!" Kobayashi groused, slapping his elbow.

But with a thump of heart he saw Usagi turn to him fully. That crinkling nose, that tilted chin as she peered up at him.

"So, you're friends with Kobayashi-kun, Chiba Mamoru?" she said with an easy, amused tone, as if the last time they'd spoken _hadn't_ been two and a half hours ago. As if they were just continuing on where they'd left off.

_Kun_. They'd spoken for three minutes at most and Kobayashi was already a -_kun_. He curled his hands into his pockets, tried to remain calm, nonchalant, mirror that same, easy tone. "If you want to label it that," he said with a slight roll of his shoulder.

"Hey!" Kobayashi barked.

But he remained fully, completely ignored, and Mamoru didn't even feel sorry. He'd be making it up to Kobayashi forever, but, no… he turned towards her even more, ignoring Kobayashi even harder as she turned that chin back up to him and spoke in that sweet, adorable voice.

"Who else do you know, here, then?" Usagi smiled.

"I used to go to school with Unazuki's older brother."

Conversation. This was actual conversation. Good.

Her eyes jumped a little in surprise. "You know Motoki-onii-chan?"

His breath came out a little harsh at her choice of nickname. He'd thought -kun was bad.

Kobayashi was saying something. He didn't even listen, didn't even react, only noticed he was going.

"I do," he said with a frown.

Someone called her name over all the noise in the room. The girl with the red glitter bow, and for a second he was terrified she'd go. But instead, she waved to the girl, mouthed something, and turned back to him.

She bit her lip, tilted her head. Seemed to think about what to say, or something like that. Good that one of them was doing that at least. "So, are you a medical student too, Chiba Mamoru?"

"I am," he rasped out.

Right. 100 points on conversation. Could he get any worse at this? His hands were back to growing clammy.

She smiled – it quirked up at one corner.

And then she didn't pick the conversation up again.

Fuck.

"Right," she said too brightly, too abruptly, rubbed her hands against her short, short skirt and scrunched up that adorable nose.

No. Think! Think of something to say. Anything.

"Odango Atama!" he bellowed as she turned once again to leave.

…and then very slowly turned back around, appallment in her eyes. "What?"

…Shit.

His eyes widened.

"It's just… your hair," he motioned to it lamely again, as if she had to be reminded of where it was.

Really, he wanted to smack himself.

"It's a little strange, I know," she said, fingering one streamer of hair suddenly rather self-consciously, and no, that was the absolute _last _thing he wanted to infer to her—

"No, it's—"

He shook his head, broke off. Fuck it. Roll with it. Just keep talking. Keep her _here_.

He felt his mouth form a smirk that felt wholly, absolutely unfamiliar on his mouth, but with her, it suddenly seemed natural. "So… what brings _you_ here, Odango Atama?"

This time, her eyes flashed a little.

* * *

For a while there – before it had all so hopelessly derailed and he had no idea how that had happened in the slightest – it had even gone quite well.

He'd gripped his third bottle of beer tightly – liquid courage much appreciated – and his hands at one point had stopped trembling and his head was rested against the tall cushions of Unazuki's dark green velvet couch so very close to hers, and so very much away from most of the crowd, as they sat way too close and spoke with their mouths so near he could feel her breath and… and…

"A song that makes you cry," she giggled out her next question, bouncing on her knees down towards him and took another sip from her pink drink. (Her fourth? Her fifth? He'd lost count).

He grunted, pushed a clumsy hand through his suddenly too long hair. Why did it always fall into his eyes goddammit? But liquid courage was good and he could _talk_ like that…

"Ok, don't laugh at me," he said, leaned forward a little as if trying to catch her with his own face.

"I would _never_," she said cutely, grinning wildly, and punching her own chest a little as if that proved anything.

Her hair was so fucking _pretty_—

He pursed his lips, still hesitating, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh, c'mon," she said, and then her perfect little fist reached out to shake his sleeve, and he very much wanted to keep it there. "I told you all about my celebrity crushes, it can't be more embarrassing than that!"

He flinched, but her face was so tantalizingly close, and he felt his lips curl into a smile instead, or something in the middle. It made her blink and come a little closer. "This isn't gonna give me any cool points," he warned.

She grinned, shrugged, leaned down, and then she was so close he could almost touch her nose with his, so close his whole vision was filled with those stunning, captivating eyes.

"Cool is totally overrated," she said with that cheeky look in her eyes, right against his lips.

He licked his lips. A moment passed. And then he grabbed at her loose, soft shirt and pulled a little, and she fell forward and her neck and ear against his lips.

"Once Upon a December," he whispered into her ear, like a terrifying secret.

Somehow, she shuddered. Needed a moment. But when she retreated, she frowned at him in confusion.

He hadn't even noticed her hand on his chest. But then he very, very much did.

"Wait, from _Anastasia_?" she laughed incredulously.

He shrugged, but still, it was probably the alcohol, he couldn't contain the grin.

"I told you it wasn't cool."

"_Really_?" she repeated, this time apparently quite endlessly amused.

He shrugged, turned his cheek a little closer to her face again, and took a swig from his bottle, his eyes never leaving hers.

She kept his gaze.

"I guess it speaks to me."

But she didn't let it go.

"A song about a cartoon princess with amnesia singing of things she 'almost remembers' speaks to you? So much it makes you _cry_?"

This time he lifted both shoulders. "To be fair," he defended himself. "It was one time only."

"A Disney song," she deadpanned. "Really?"

He shook his head. "Not a Disney film."

But then her grin was back, and her shifting knees against his side, and her lips around the straw of her drink. "Well," she said around the pink plastic, "It's a very good film."

He exhaled, grew silent. She was so close. So precious. So… She was _here_. _Odango Atama_ sat here, almost but not quite against him, asked him 20 questions, flirted (hopefully? Maybe?) with him.

Honestly, this was not how he'd seen his evening going. He needed to buy Kobayashi an enormous thank you gift. Unazuki too.

"Honestly I find that absolutely charming," Usagi hushed at him in an almost confidential tone, as if she was telling a secret, and his drunken mind was confused for a second about what she was talking about.

"Oh?" he said stupidly, craning his neck a little to look up at her. The way he was crouched against the side of the couch, slumped across the tall cushions on his side towards her, and she kneeling next to him, her knee-socked, gorgeous legs tucked beneath her, she was seated a little higher than him.

"Yup," she smiled a toothy smile. "Nothing more charming in the world than a man who cries at a girly film."

"Oh?" he grinned back. "Well then let it be known I lied and it wasn't just once, and I cry at another song in that film, too."

Her chuckle was tinkling bells and adorably weird little snorts and he was drunk, but he was also melting. "Oh, yeah?" she giggled, eyes bright and charming and so _close_.

"Yup," he popped the 'p', grinning back stupidly, drunkenly. "Almost even more than that. The kind of pathetic, soul crushing bawling with a side of hope. You know, _totally_ charming."

She gave him a nod as if she wasn't buying a single thing he said, her head lolling onto the cushion beside his, and their fringes mingles, blonde and black. "Which one?" she said, jutting her chin, challenge in her eyes.

His grin was stretched so wide it almost hurt, and yet his voice was entirely smooth, entirely flirty, and who knew alcohol had always been the answer for this particular problem? "We'll just have to watch the film together so you can find out," he purred towards her.

And then her eyes flashed, and with a sudden grip to his heart, he was terrified he'd been too forward.

And then Kobayashi came and fucked the mood all up and he really, really wanted to kick him in the shin.

The whole couch bounced when Kobayashi collapsed against it, next to him, arm stretched out across the back of it, his voice slurring.

They both jumped, Usagi more than him, and suddenly there was distance back between them and _no_—

Kobayashi clapped him hard on his shoulder, but talked to Usagi. "This is one of the good apples, you know?" he said too loudly, drunk out of his face. "Mamoru-kun. Did he tell you he did study abroad at Harvard?"

His eyes never left Usagi's, even when his expression turned into an apologetic flinch. And so even though his brain was a little foggy, a little light, a little slow, he could _watch_ the smile slip from her lips and her eyes grow a little wide.

"Uh… no, no he didn't."

Another clap on his shoulder. "Smartest guy I've ever met, let me tell you!"

"You drank too much, Kobayashi," Mamoru hissed between his teeth, ripping his eyes from Usagi's to glare at Kobayashi.

"Nope!" he yelped, raised his glass, and stumbled to the kitchen. "Not yet!"

He looked after him, blinking. But when he looked back, the damage was done, and he suddenly wished he was sober so he could properly assess it, figure out what the hell it was that had gone wrong just now.

But he wasn't sober, he was too slow, and there was suddenly a wide gap between them, and her head was no longer resting against the same cushion his was, and she was sitting rimrod straight and studying him.

"So, Harvard?"

Her smile was sweet, a little reserved, something like awe in her eyes and…

He swallowed. Yes, he could use this, he could roll with this. This could be salvaged.

Maybe if she was impressed, then maybe she'd want to… He wanted so _very_, very hard to impress her. Maybe all his academic life had amounted simply to impress this one woman.

He swallowed down the modesty. "I … yes," he said with a nod. But his tongue was heavy and he tried so hard not to fail, to sound smart and not drunk, and why the hell had he drunk in the first place, what had he been thinking?

So… show time…

"In my first year at Keio I worked part time as a research assistant and worked on a study on the effects of constant-current pallidal deep brain stimulation for primary dystonia on cognition that my professor was doing. I presented a poster of the part of the study I'd worked with most at the World Congress for Neurology in Santiago that my professor took me to. Harvard was so impressed by my participation in it that they approached me afterwards and offered me a scholarship for a specific research project that was also directed at the effects of DBS on cognitive functions. I stayed for the duration of the longitudinal study and then came back to specialize my studies fully in neurology here at Keio."

Phew. Drunken brain could still form the vernacular.

But when he drew in breath, her eyes were comically wide.

"Oh. Um. Well, what is your medical um… specialty, then?"

He frowned. "My medical field? Um, neurology, as I said."

And then he frowned harder, because she giggled weirdly and touched her temple. "Right… uh, so, you aren't, like, a, a… Do you like, treat? Patients?"

And then she scrunched her eyes shut, as if she'd said something wrong, and he grew even more confused.

"I'm scheduled to start doing my residency in spring. Already signed the contract. I'll be starting to work on my dissertation alongside that," he said, his mouth suddenly very dry, because she… this wasn't what…

"Your… diss-a… nation," she repeated, fumbling over the word with a frown.

"That… sounds like a lot of work," she said slowly, carefully.

"I like my research focus," he said equally carefully. "It's a little ambitious, but it's a lot of fun."

Her eyes grew even wider. "Fun?" she asked.

He shrugged. Swallowed. He wished so hard the alcohol fog would go, so he could do this better…

"I like the science part of it," he croaked uncomfortably.

"I… you'd like my friend Ami," she whispered. She was wringing her hands in her lap, still sitting impossibly straight.

With a sudden yank he sat up straighter, too. This conversation was suddenly slipping into territory he found altogether dangerous. "…Oh?" he said.

Her lips and brows pressed together, before she spoke. "Yeah," she said slowly, trying not to slur once more, or so it seemed. "She's… she's a med student as well. Totally into science, too. She's the most brilliant person I know."

He swallowed around his dry, swollen tongue. "…Oh." A beat of silence. "Maybe I know her?" he cracked his neck uncomfortably, glanced back at her carefully.

"Mizuno Ami?" she said.

He blinked. "Like… Mizuno Saeko? Chief of Medicine of Juuban Second General Hospital?"

Usagi nodded, hands still restlessly wringing in her lap. "Um yeah, that's her mom."

His eyes widened a little. He knew… of her. "That's the hospital I'll do my residency at."

Her eyes found his, held his gaze a little. There was none of the previous carefree giggles left in them.

"Oh, well," she said, quite stilted. "I got to introduce you two then."

He exhaled slowly. "…right."

"I think you'd be perfect for each other, really."

His heart stuttered painfully, plummeting harshly.

Wait. No. WAIT.

But all that came out was a pained little, "Oh?"

"Yeah, you have … the same interests and all…"

His chest constricted, his hands grew damp, he curled them into fists. How had he… "I…"

"She's amazing," Usagi prattled on with somewhat of a shy smile, knees modestly pressed together, hands in her lap. "You'd love her. She'd brilliant and sweet and she has the kindest heart. You totally need to… You need to meet her. You'll hit it off immediately, I'm sure."

His heart pounded rather frantically, rather deafening. He didn't know what he'd done, except he'd done something spectacularly, horribly wrong. Had he not been… Had he not flirted enough? Had he seemed disinterested? What had he _done_? How did this _happen_? What happened to watching a film together, he…

"She's the most perfect girl I know, really. Do you want to meet her?"

He'd wanted to impress her. He'd wanted to impress her so hard. And here she sat, trying to set him up with her friend. With his future bosses' _daughter_…

It lodged in his throat, the words wanting to spill out from his traitorous, drunk tongue. _I don't want your _friend_, baka. I want _you_._

But that weren't the words his tongue ended up forming. "Maybe… maybe sometime."

Usagi nodded stiffly. And then… and then she _got up._

He shot up from the couch.

"Well um," she said, and pushed some hair behind her ear. "I should go home."

_No_.

His breath came as a panicked stutter. "Wait, can I bring you home?" he almost cried.

She wrinkled her nose. Looked to the side. He followed her gaze and found her friend's face and gesticulating hands, the one with the red glitter bow, motioning things he really didn't understand, but looked a little frantic, some sort of code…

No… that wasn't… she wasn't coding her friend to get _away_ from him, was she?

What had he _done_?!

"Um, nah, I live… really _very_ close," Usagi said rather awkwardly.

No. _No_. No, this was _it_. She'd slip from his life and that would be it, and how, when would he get a chance again to…

It was stupid. It was panic. He had no clue why he said what he said.

"...when do you suggest I meet that friend of yours," he spat out in his wide-eyed panic.

* * *

Next morning, daylight filtering through Usagi's curtains, pounding headache and glaring cat and eating leftover Coco Curry for breakfast in her rumply bed, Usagi shook a pastel colored manga in Minako's glaring face.

"Take Nina!" Usagi cried for evidence. "Her life would be so much easier if she didn't fall for her uber-popular sempai who was so very out of her league! You gotta stick to your own league and suddenly everything will be so easy!"

"That's such utter nonsense, Usagi," Minako cried, pointing Usagi's Cardcaptor Sakura chopsticks at their owner accusingly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but girl, don't listen to _manga_ for love advice!"

Usagi's reacting face was _all_ the appallment.

"Besides, I saw him too, remember? And he's _not_ out of your league."

Luna hopped onto the bed beside Minako, and Usagi could have _sworn_ her cat was nodding at her.

Usagi scoffed and stabbed her spoon into the curry.

"If _anything_, you're out of _his_!"

Usagi nearly choked on the rice, and nearly snorted it up her nose. "Are you insane?" she cried, mouth full.

Minako shrugged in disdain, kicking her foot against Usagi and the moon-and-bunnies-comforter she'd owned absolutely _forever_. "Sure, he's somewhat classically attractive. But he's also nerdy as fuck, can't small talk, has resting bitch face, doesn't look like he's got a funny bone in his body, and something about him _screams_ childhood trauma to me. Dude has the looks, but I bet you he's not the fun toy in the cereal box."

Usagi gaped with her mouth open, Coco Curry and all. "Are you... Are you LISTENING to yourself?!"

"Just knocking him down off that pedestal!"

Usagi shook her head in wild shock. How could Minako even _think_—

Another twirl of her pink chopsticks. "_You_, on the other hand, are charm personified, totes fun, _GORGEOUS_. You walk into a room and bring in the sun. And he didn't react to that at ALL. Blank, stoic face all the way. Guy doesn't deserve you. NOR AMI."

Usagi shook her head wildly. "You got him wrong. He's just elegant and poised. Mysterious and hot and perfect. Think Michiru!"

"Pfffttt," Minako prousted. "Nope, nope, nopety-nope."

Usagi glared her glariest glare, and with a yank, flipped her comforter away from her. Luna jumped off the bed with a low whine.

"Girl, you're attempting to set up one of your _best friends_ with a guy you already have twisted panties over. I _saw_ the way you looked at him on that couch. This is a recipe for disaster."

Sending her a deep pout, Usagi got out of the bed with a whine not unlike that of her cat.

"He's not even Ami's type?" Minako argued.

Usagi threw the manga around to dig for her phone – she knew she'd thrown it somewhere here when the alarm sounded (on a friggin Sunday like a traitor). She snorted. "Yeah, right. How can a perfect 10 not be her type."

Minako coughed a 'hardly', earning another glare.

And then, ha, there it was, her phone.

She dialed Ami's number as she walked into the bathroom, Minako's voice carrying after her.

"I taught you better than that!" she yelled. "_YOU'RE_ THE 10! _11_!"

* * *

_So, Queen Risa loves it when Mamoru is NERVOUS and quite a bit vulnerable, and she also loves AUs, and romcoms, and so I tried my hand at that, and I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT, LOVE! Next and last part tomorrow!_

_Giantess-thanks to my beta, Uglygreenjacket: Thank you so much for your encouragement for this impromptu ride, and for helping me so unconditionally even at such short notice! And thanks to TinaCentury, for being so excited about this idea! AND BIGGEST THANKS TO ANTIGONE2! She hosted the exchange it's a HELL lot of work and I appreciate that so much and also IT'S HER BIRTHDAY TODAY so go give her some love! She deserves it!  
_

_I also believe this is the last fic to be posted in the Fall In Love Fic Exchange - which means you can now go and look at a complete set ;)_

_Reviews are love! _


	2. Part II

_Thanks once more to my lovely, lovely beta, for sticking by me when I need her always! _

_This romcom dash is something I'm not completely used to writing, so it's a bit of an adventure, and I really hope you guys enjoy this conclusion, too! (And Queen Risa most of all!) Enjoy!_

* * *

Part II

* * *

If he'd had no idea why he'd shown up to Unazuki's party, then this, right here, was pure lunacy. And he was kind of terrified to dive deep to investigate, too – because whatever reasoning came up, it all would have to be firmly atrocious. Because really, if he analysed this situation even with two eyes firmly shut and his hands pressed over his ears, he would still have to acknowledge the fact that he was right now waiting for a date he had no interest in for the simple reason that he wanted a chance with that date's _friend_…

So, he preferred having no clue why the hell he was here.

Instead, he stood in his grey button up and his hands in his pockets in front of the main auditorium of Tokyo University's Yayoi Campus that would house a symposium that was in neither of their fields, and he kept glancing at a text he'd received from an unknown caller that his stuttering heart was plenty sure was _Odango Atama's number_ and how'd she even _gotten_ _his_?!

Mizuno Ami's contact details, followed by a date and a place. And then: _Ami-chan is the gorgeous woman all in blue, you can't miss her! Have fun with your nerdery!_

He kept staring at the numbers. He'd had them memorized by now. And so, he almost missed when a woman with a midnight-colored bob cut in an elegant, ice blue peacoat and black leather gloves approached him with a small smile.

"Excuse me, are you Chiba Mamoru?" she asked in a pleasant, soft voice.

He pocketed his phone, stretched out his hand, smoothed an easy smile across his face, and why, _why_ couldn't he have acted normally like this at that party, _why_?

"Mizuno-san," he greeted with a nod and a soft shake of her gloved hand. "I believe we're scheduled for some 'nerdery'."

At that the girl laughed, threw him an amused look. "Usagi-chan means well with these things, I assure you," she said with a smile, and for a second his heart stuttered, because it brought it all back.

This was Odango Atama's _friend_. Whom he was on a _date_ with. How had he so spectacularly fucked _up_ like that?

"And please," she added on with a soft tilt of her head, "call me Ami."

He swallowed the yowling of his heart, smoothed it all over, and nodded with a smile. "Mamoru," he offered, and then fell easily and comfortably in step as they approached the frankly impressive glass and wooden structure that was the Yayoi Auditorium.

* * *

The symposium was quite interesting as symposiums went that weren't in his field of study. The chairman talking about the progress and challenges of meeting the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development Goals was enigmatic and the speakers seemed quite dedicated and really, finding out his companion for the day was quite passionate about scientific solutions to save the melting ice caps among other things made conversation really, really easy for once.

She was a delightful, remarkable woman. One he hoped to keep in his life in one form or other. One that was surprisingly easy to talk to. One he _did_ share many an interest with. One he was _absolutely_ not interested _in_.

Who was he kidding, that was a conclusion he'd known before he'd ever laid eyes on her.

But she was nice, and so his mood fell more and more, because the despicable utilitarian motivations buried deep in his mind that _maybe_, if he saw Ami from time to time, he might run into _Usagi_ from time to time, too, was simply horrendously unfair to her and inhumane from him and simply wouldn't do.

And so, he sat with his legs crossed on his plastic chair viewing the podium, mindful to keep his distance even when she leaned up to quietly comment on the speakers' points.

It was during lunch break that his brittle façade started to crack.

They sat at a small white table with dry, square shaped catering cake on plain white china in a plain white conference room turned lunch room, fluorescent lights turned on above their heads because the sky today was grey and overcast, the room filled with a low murmur and the sound of cutlery hitting porcelain. Even if he'd had any ulterior motives here today, it was probably the most unromantic of all places ever. As he _didn't_, the surrounding atmosphere was almost reassuring.

"So, tell me, Mamoru-san," Ami asked with a pleasant smile and her elbows off the table as she let her spoon glide noiselessly through her square slice of streusel cake. "What's your raison d'être?"

She'd shaken him from his thoughts, and he threw her a blank look, but she didn't comment, simply kindly rephrased her question.

"Why are you a becoming a neurologist, and a researching one at that?" she asked. "What are you trying to solve?"

He frowned, stabbed his own slice of baumkuchen. His voice turned uncomfortable, but he answered. "Um. Retrograde Amnesia, I guess."

"That's very specific," Ami answered, voice neutral and collected.

"It is," he nodded without holding eye contact.

Ami placed her spoon next to her slice of cake delicately. "But you spent years studying dystonia instead?"

He shrugged. "It was the project my professor dedicated his life to; nothing I chose myself. I was a research assistant and just slipped into it by chance," he said, and Ami nodded with a little 'Ah,' before he continued listlessly. "But really, my focus was less the disorder itself and more the form of treatment. I wouldn't say I studied dystonia for years, I studied DBS for years."

She picked her spoon up against, carved it through the cake once more. "So, any applications for Deep Brain Stimulation on retrograde amnesia?"

He crooked a smile. "I hope so?" But then he frowned. "I'm not sure, honestly. It works for dystonia." Another shrug. This wasn't the kind of topic he liked to dive too deeply into, after all. At least not the _why_.

And so, he did what he did best and diverted the conversation away from him. "What about you?" he asked. "What's the suffering you aim to lessen? You're in Pediatrics?"

Her smile was warm, polite, and she slipped her spoon from her mouth before she spoke. "I'm not as specific as you, to be absolutely honest," she said with a shrug of her own. "I just feel this deep, almost irrational calling to rid the world of a bit of injustice, and I feel sick children aren't exactly fair."

"That's very noble."

She cocked her head at him, but that warm smile remained the same. "So is wanting to solve retrograde amnesia."

He snorted, almost, but not really – more of a huff, and turned back to his baumkuchen. "Nah, believe me, nothing altruistic about that."

The cake was so dry, he'd have liked to break pieces off it and dunk it in his coffee, but he didn't dare to. So instead, he pushed his spoon around his plain coffee cup over and over slowly, the creamer long ago having created that little twist pattern before it mixed with the coffee and became muddy.

He hadn't even noticed the level look Ami had regarded him with, until he looked up and had to blink.

She held it a few seconds longer, completely and unnervingly neutral, hands primly folded atop her crossed legs, before she spoke.

"Listen, Mamoru-san,"

He suddenly felt the need to sit up straighter, and so he did.

"How do I put this delicately?" Ami's face crumbled into concern, the fluorescent light reflecting off the gem-shaped blue brooch pinned to the collar buttons of Ami's white blouse. "Don't get me wrong, you're very pleasant to converse with, but I'll be frank, I don't see this developing ….anywhere in the sense Usagi seems to… suggest it might."

Ami looked absolutely apologetic, yet in a _whooosh_-kind of sensation, out went all the air from his lungs in purest relief, even if, judging by what followed, Ami seemed to misread his reaction.

"I'm sorry if that's insensitive, but I thought I'd… Sometimes I feel it's kinder to confront such things in the beginnings, rather than stringing someone…" By this point Ami was blushing. "Not that I think that you... This is all coming out wrong, please know the last thing I aim to do is offend you, you seem like an accomplished, pleasant man and I…"

He chuckled, he couldn't help it, all relief flooded his vocal chords, and he sent her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'm rather… " he wet his lips "…rather _relieved_ to hear you say this. Not that I don't think you're a very pleasant person yourself, I just don't…"

And with that, Ami's shoulders fell too, and her lips quirked up all the same.

Mamoru cleared his throat. Took his chance. "Um, if you don't mind me asking, what… what did she say about me, when she…" And lost his nerve, shoulders slumping back down.

Ami's head tilted a little. "Usagi-chan?" she asked.

And there it was again, that hoarse hue to his voice, when he croaked an ineloquent, "Yeah…"

"When she set us up?"

That little _kick_ to his chest… "I… I suppose."

Ami's face had tilted even more; regarded him with the most curious expression. "She had only good things to say about you, I promise."

"I…" He swallowed. "And what would that…" And then he exhaled slowly. "Nevermind."

The next smile she sent him was small, searching. "To be fair, as far as I understand, her assessment of you was made when she was more than a bit abbreviated, so I wouldn't trust it to the exact words, perhaps."

The stab that went through him was tight, and terrified, and it took _everything_ in him not to fall to this table and _beg_ the woman to _please_ tell him what Usagi _said_… Alas, instead, he ran a hand through his hair in masked frustration, and started a sentence he never finished. "Right, but did she…"

Ami gave him unnecessary time to finish his thought. Only when it looked absolutely like he never would, did she speak – her face in kindest curiosity. "Why are you here today, Mamoru-san?"

The question took him aback, laced him with shame.

_Either I'm here so I can use you to meet your friend, because I'm a despicable human being, or I'm here because my brain shuts off when a pretty blonde girl tells me to do things._

He guessed neither of these were acceptable answers.

"Uh… I've been interested to go to this symposium anyway and I…"

He broke off. He didn't want to lie. Ami just threw him a patient smile and delicately put her spoon sideways onto her now empty plate and sat back once again with her hands folded in her lap.

Back to diversion, then. But from the look in Ami's eyes when he posed the question, his diversion wasn't all too diverted.

"How… how did you meet Usagi then?"

She held his gaze, warm but calculating, and for a while he thought she wouldn't speak - until she did.

"Usagi-chan was in my parallel class in middle school, later we advanced to the same high school class," Ami's smile was fond, sweet, and she lifted her shoulder and let it drop. For a second, Mamoru wondered if he'd ever seen Ami on the bus with Usagi – one of the many, many throngs of friends that had surrounded her and he'd never paid attention to.

"She kind of adopted me, to be completely honest," Ami was saying. "I was quite shunned in school for my intellect, people attributed some aspects to my character that strictly weren't true, but I was too shy to confront. She found me and took me under her wing, introduced me and integrated me into the group that is now my dearest friends."

Mamoru nodded, a little breathless. Started as Ami's smile slipped into the slightest of frowns.

"For the duration of our friendship people have said quite a few mean things about it; questioning me why I would 'waste' my time with someone 'like her' because her academic achievements weren't as splendid as mine were, thinking I had made the inferior deal with her, when really, she was the best thing that ever happened to me. A person who fully believed in me, supported me, and then would rip my books right out of my hands and yell at me until I started having human connection and have hobbies and feel loved and accepted as I was."

"That…" Mamoru breathed "…that seems like her."

Again that tilted head. "I thought you only met her at that party? How would you know?"

His eyes widened. "I uh…"

Diversion. Diversion. "What are those hobbies, then?" he asked.

She let it happen. The patient smile smoothed back over her face. "Writing song lyrics. Swimming. Spending time with my friends goofing off."

"That all sounds very nice."

She nodded.

"Why are you here today, Mamoru-san?" she asked again.

He couldn't help but groan.

And then Ami huffed, and her elbows, for the first time in their conversation, met the table. "Please know there is quite a lot more to Usagi than meets the eye," she implored.

He fell back against the back of his chair, blinking in surprise at the intensity of Ami's frown.

"I spend my days with quite a few accomplished people from all sorts of fields. Usagi-chan may _seem_ brash and loud and unconventional when you first meet her, enough to dismiss her perhaps – and she certainly IS unconventional, that much is true. But she is the best person I know. I wouldn't… I would urge you not to dismiss her just because her academic achievements aren't as splendid as mine."

Mamoru's eyes widened in sudden, uncomfortable realisation and frank horror. "Wait… you think I've _dismissed_ her? I'm… I wouldn't… _Really_, Ami-san, I really, _really_ wouldn't…I…"

Had he fucked up _that_ hard? Had that been what Usagi told Ami? Did she think that—

But his mask must have slipped, because Ami looked at him entirely different now, blinking in open surprise, and he snapped his mouth shut, and tried feverishly to swallow it all back down.

The silence that stretched between them was awfully heavy, pronounced even more by the suddenly so loud clinking of plain china in fluorescent light and polite, subdued rounds of monitored laughter in a room full of academics.

And so her next words were really the _last_ ones he'd expected.

"Are you free this Friday evening?" she asked.

Wait. Another _date_?!— What—

But Ami talked right over his panicked, stricken expression.

"I'm seeing a play that one of my friends performs in. It's Sleeping Beauty but with an underlying social critique about the beauty standards put upon women in a capitalist patriarchy."

"Um—"

"I'm going with a few _friends_ of mine…"

… Oh. …_Oh_.

"Maybe you would like the chance to tag along…?" Ami asked with that sweet smile and patiently tilted head.

* * *

Usagi growled at the insistent buzzing of her bell some more and pushed the intercom with a hiss as she hopped to get her gold glitter tights all the way up.

"_I said I'll be right down!" _she hissed against the little white machine once more, pressing the button.

"That was _5 minutes ago_ you absolute _moron_! We're _waiting_ here! We're going to be _so_ late!" came Rei's irritated voice through the tinny little speakers.

"I'll be _right down_! _Geeze_!" she barked back and let the button go, then slipped her little strappy black dress over her head, careful not to disturb all that gold glitter make-up she'd taken so long to get on her face and let it flutter to just above her knees.

Looking herself over in the mirror one last time, she looked like she fell into a golden glitter pot, or maybe hugged a burlesque dancer too hard. She _did_ look a little like a stripper. A very expensive, very attractive, very monochrome, very glittery stripper. All that gold glitter in almost the color of her hair made her _pop_. She looked _awesome_.

She grabbed her giant poofy fake fur coat and hopped on one leg to get into her strappy heels when her phone buzzed in her pocket and Rei's stuck-out tongue on her contact photo flashed at her.

"_Usagi_!" came the howl the second she pressed speaker.

"Almost done!" Usagi cried back, and then cried out. "Ouch!" when she fell against her door in her quest to get her shoes on.

A groan on Rei's end of the line, Ami's voice from a distance "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah!" and grabbed her keys and threw them into her tiny gold pouch of a bag with her Suica card and a bit of cash.

"Wait," Usagi cried into her phone in wide-eyed, sudden horror. "Was I responsible for the booze?!"

Mako-chan's voice in the background now, calling out a hollered "Got it," while Rei groaned loudly into the phone.

"I swear to god Usagi if you don't get your ass down here right this second, we're leaving without y—"

"I _said I'm on my way_! Geeze, Rei, chill!" Usagi sighed as she left her apartment, then held her phone against the door clicking shut. "Hear that? Door. Closing. On my way."

Mako-chan's voice; "Wait, do you have the confetti poppers?"

Usagi flinched hard, tried to unlock her door again as silently as possible, but obviously the key in her lock was loud enough to be registered over her phone, since the sound was met with a collective groan.

She clicked the phone off before anyone could yell at her anymore, ran back in, shoes and all, pulled the rectangle tubes from the paperbag beneath her bed and left the rest of the contents spewed across the floor and ran back out, blowing Luna and her judgmental eyes a kiss and _finally_ left her apartment.

Rei (in a _stunning _red dress) was giving her the biggest stink eye when Usagi finally emerged from the little side door directly next to Crown that led up to the apartments, confetti poppers triumphantly held up and into the air, and Rei turned around to leave with a flick of her gorgeous black hair.

Usagi rolled her eyes, accepting Mako-chan's warm hug in greeting, but it was right there, when Mako-chan and her warm, perfect, safety-net shoulder let go of her, that Usagi's heart stopped.

Next to Ami, in a slim fitted black dinner jacket with satin lapels and his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his skinny dark jeans, stood Chiba Mamoru.

Usagi managed to react with all the countenance of one of those cats in the videos with the cucumbers.

She blinked. But there he still was, looking at her very strangely, and oh god, there was glitter all over her and she looked like a stripper clutching confetti poppers like a lifeline _why_, and all that pretty hair falling in his face and _goddammit_ she'd hoped it had been the alcohol that had made him so pretty in her head how was he even PRETTIER?

He didn't say hi. Neither did she. Just gaped.

"You… really _do_ live really very close," he said eventually.

"Yeah, one apartment over from Unazuki," she replied automatically, robotically.

He nodded. "No wonder you disappeared so fast, then."

"_GUYS_!" Rei called, halfway down the street already, thrusting her arms up in agitated annoyance, and at least it seemed to jumpstart Ami.

Oh god, _Ami_.

Oh god_damn_?! Somehow in all of this Usagi hadn't realised that if she set Mamoru up with Ami, then Usagi would be seeing a lot of him. That it meant she'd be seeing Mamoru as… as what, Ami's _boyfriend_? Was she attracted to _Ami's_ _boyfriend_?!

Oh god.

Ami's hand slipped around her elbow in a tender grip, and dragged her along effectively, and Usagi managed – just barely – to move her wide eyes away from Mamoru and on her pretty friend, instead.

"I invited Mamoru to come with us tonight," she said in an easy tone. "I assumed you wouldn't mind?"

"N-No."

* * *

By the time they'd transferred in Shibuya and gotten on the JR to Shimokitazawa she'd _almost_ gotten her heart in control, _almost_ managed to stop staring (he looked just… he was with a group of _stunning_ women all dolled up, how did he manage to look _better_?!), and _almost_ had her cool.

On the Yamanote line she'd done her best to make way so he could remain close to Ami.

They looked _good _together. Ami in her elegantly chic ice blue peacoat and that gorgeous swing skirt peeking out from beneath, that silver floral hair comb so elegantly woven into her pretty hair, this unfairly beautiful stunner so tall and lean next to her, the way he murmured something down to her and she murmured something reassuring back to him, patting his arm.

They looked really, really good together. She'd made the right choice. However much it kind of closed up her throat and made her chest sting.

And yet, when the Inokashira line they transferred into had gotten absolutely crowded, Ami had somehow just… slipped away. And so, when he'd stood in front of her on the crowded train car, facing her and clutching one of the handrails above, her heart hammered loudly, and all that careful cool was gone. It didn't help that she could see him _studiously_ trying _not_ to look down at her, his eyes firmly fixed to her face. And so, it was almost a little absurd when he cleared his throat and said, "You… look lovely."

She snorted right up at him. Had to crane her neck with the way they were pushed so close to one another in the late evening rush hour. "You mean I'm dripping glitter," she commented.

His teeth flashed and he _smirked_ and how was the guy allowed to be so _sexy_, goddammit?! "You very much are," he said, and had his eyes been blue the last time she'd seen him, too?!

"Is it in your hair too?" he asked, and he looked up to the crown of her head and her subtly glittering hair buns. And he licked his lips, why was he licking his lips?!

His eyes were back on hers not a second after that, and her throat was suddenly so very, very dry.

Ami's boyfriend. Ami's _boyfriend_.

"Yup," she croaked out. "It's a dry shampoo with gold glitter."

The way he looked down at her was… really very unfair.

"It's… got quite the effect," he said slowly, never leaving her eyes.

Nope, all her cool was gone.

She nearly ran from the stupid train when they finally arrived in Shimokitazawa, tried to get somewhat lost in the crowds of young people spilling out from the station in search for a good time in this hippest of all neighborhoods, linked arms with Mako-chan all the way to the theater and kept small talking about anything with her even when he walked a modest distance _right beside her._

He kept glancing at her hair.

Apparently, the hair glitter had been a bit much…

Rei was making pointed conversation with him. He asked a lot of things about the shrine, and it all seemed so… _weird_.

He wasn't walking anywhere _near _Ami, even if she did contribute to the conversation. And once in a while, she'd ask something that would drag Usagi into it, or Mako-chan. Whenever that happened, Usagi made a pointed effort to steer the topic back away instead, and herself and Mako-chan a few steps ahead on the pretty and narrow lanes along murals and closed shops and opening izakayas.

It was in the theater, already loud and noisy before the show, and as they filed into the already quite crowded row for reserved seats, that she was starting to grow irritated with him.

He was supposed to be here with _Ami_. Why didn't he make an effort to sit with _Ami_?!

Instead, he sat down next to _her_.

She'd gotten up, leaned over Rei-chan who protested loudly, and asked Ami if she wanted to switch seats. She'd declined with a slow nod and a look in her eye that she supposed was meant to tell her something but… really didn't. But when she sat back down, Mamoru wasn't looking at her anymore. In fact, he looked as if she'd kicked his puppy or something, when all she'd done was try and allow him to sit with his _date_—

And when she leaned back, she discovered that really, these red plushy seats were really narrow, and her armrest was his armrest, and that dinner jacket was really hella soft.

She was going to burn in hell.

Usagi leaned over with a hiss. "Mako-chan!"

The prettiest brunette head of hair in the whole room popped out of line and threw her a quizzical look.

"Champagne!"

"Already?" Makoto mouthed back, but opened up her big bag underneath her seat and lifted out two pink cans of prosecco that she handed over.

Booze, lots, lots and lots of booze.

She threw Mako-chan a look. She only needed one.

But Mako-chan nodded towards Mamoru with a nod of her chin that again, was apparently supposed to tell her something, as if she hadn't gotten some sort of memo that everyone was in on and she had no clue.

But… she supposed she could share, yes. Even if her heart was already hammering wildly with just the prospect of touching his hand when she handed the can over.

"Want one?" she whispered, leaning over without making eye contact. Instead, she stared straight ahead at the unmoving curtain on stage.

And of course his voice was smooth velvet and a smirk, and his fingers were warm and long and elegant and _modestly_ _polite_ when he carefully took the can from her. "Smuggling champagne into a theater?"

"It's not that sort of theater, you'll see," she said with a shrug, and allowed herself a smile over her shoulder up at him.

_Mistake_. Because _he_ was smiling _down_ at her, and it was fucking _dangerous_ to look at.

"I gathered as much from the get-up of the audience," he hushed meaningfully down at her, eyes so fucking _blue_, half-smile playing so enticingly around his lips.

"Also, I mean, Shimokitazawa…" he added with a shrug.

She snorted at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it does have a certain… reputation," he said carefully, still that little smile on his mouth just wouldn't go, kind of like on Unazuki's couch and...and ...ugh.

_Ami's_.

She scrunched up her face. It must have looked a bit stupid with all that glitter on her cheekbones and eyelids. "Sounds to me like you could use a bit more fun places in your life," she snarked.

But his smirk only turned wider. "I hope so," he said.

His face was smiling in that intense way, and his fringe fell across his face when he leaned forward to clink his can to hers.

"Kanpai," he whispered with a small smile around his lips, his eyes glued to hers.

She ripped her eyes away.

And she _kept_ them away, mostly. All throughout the play, she _didn't_ acutely register whenever he crossed and uncrossed his legs, or whenever his dangling leg would minisculely touch against hers and then move as if burned. She _didn't_ register how his hand on their shared armrest alternated between tapping it restlessly and rubbing his palm against it throughout the show.

But she very much _did_ amusedly register his wide-eyed reaction to the show, here and there. At Fauna, Flora and Merriweather played by three stunning Drag Queens, at Maleficent so magnificently played by Minako (she got that evil laugh down pat) and in such stunning, over-the-top costumes.

But by the time the play was in intermission, and Ami and the girls had all decided to just _leave _for flimsy reasons even when she looked at them strangely and they looked back at her even _stranger_, she was getting downright _angry_ with him.

He hadn't even _offered _to go with Ami!

The silence had stretched between them for a bit in the dimly lit, noisy room, his hands doing some restless things against the armrest, when she turned back to him, and found him staring down at her.

Quite in the way he'd looked at her that night on Unazuki's couch.

She'd turned her head and _glared_.

He was on a date with _Ami_, what the hell?!

He opened his mouth to say something, but ended up closing it.

For the rest of the play, she didn't look back up, and his hand tapped against the armrest even harder. She was pretty sure he didn't even notice that he was doing it.

When the curtain fell and everyone stood and cheered, and she struggled with the confetti poppers and he reached out to help –

Her stomach nearly tumbled into her shoes because _damn _his hands were soft and fucking gentle and—

The poppers exploded in a rain of gold confetti down towards the stage and the noise startled her out of her thoughts.

This guy was not for her. He wasn't. Stop that beating, you stupid heart.

He really looked distractingly, unfairly good in that dinner jacket. Those black satin lapels were almost as shiny as his hair.

She ripped her eyes away and kept them away once more. And when they walked backstage to congratulate the crew, and Shiro who had played a _spectacular _Flora hugged her tight and lifted her off her feet until she giggled, Mamoru was still standing there, looking at her curiously, almost sadly, his hands in his pockets – but nowhere even _near_ Ami.

And then Minako - Minako who _recognized _him of course but wasn't even surprised to see him - Minako making finger guns at him, calling him 'Harvard,' and whispering something in his ear that promptly made him _blush _and avert his eyes from Usagi's unwittingly curious stare and… what the _hell _was even going on here?!

But it all got _stranger_, when, after the show, and when they'd _usually _all go for drinks with the crew together, the girls decided to try a new place out instead, only for Minako to so _obviously _and blatantly _fake _a headache, and both Rei and Mako-chan volunteered to get her home, and then _Ami_ remembered she had an exam to study for and could they do a rain-check only _after_ Usagi had already ordered her drink…?!

It was when Ami left with a small hug first for Mamoru, whispering something in his ear that made his eyes flash to Usagi's even when Ami was speaking to him, that it all boiled over.

Usagi was halfway up and out the door in rage when Ami turned to hug her goodbye, too.

"Have you checked your phone, Usagi-chan?" Ami whispered in her ear.

Usagi furrowed her brow, utterly confused, but settled back onto her stool in confusion.

But Ami was already waving goodbye, and she was left alone in a bar in Shimokitazawa, an hour before last train, with glitter in her hair and a man that was way too pretty and who kept… looking at the wrong woman all night.

Ok. Finish her drink, and take the next JR home.

But Mamoru clenched his hands around his glass, and didn't talk, and while the little hip bar was lively and darkly lit and pretty cool, it wasn't made to… _not_ talk.

But he'd been frankly quite a neglecting douche to Ami all night and she didn't feel like reassuring him that that was in any way ok, and so she glared.

It was the most uncomfortable 10 minutes she'd ever spent with someone she really wanted to lick a line from his throat to his navel, until they'd drank up in silence and he'd paid the bill under her protest, and helped her awkwardly into her coat.

But when they walked back to the JR through the now dark and quiet and somewhat abandoned neon-lit streets in silence, it was even worse.

And so it was left to her, and she relented with a deep sigh.

"So, how did you like the play?"

Her voice seemed so loud – the silence it had shattered had been so thick it had almost startled him, or so it seemed.

His eyes flashed to hers.

But he did speak.

"To be absolutely honest, I didn't really… my mind was occupied a lot. I didn't pay that much attention."

She looked at him in surprise. "There were three Drag Queens suspended from a fake moon, how could you not have paid attention?"

"I was…um..." He broke up, pushed a hand through that gorgeous hair before those pretty eyes flashed again.

"Okay," he said, and it seemed to take a lot of inner pep-talk. "Honestly? I was nervous. I'm _still_ nervous. Awfully, awkwardly nervous."

She furrowed her brow. "You're…nervous? What for?"

"Saying the wrong thing. Doing the wrong thing. Accidently checking you out again, made so much worse by sitting in a play where the actresses talk a lot about objectifying women and toxic masculinity."

She stopped in the middle of the road, right in view of the lit up JR station right ahead, and blinked up at him. He slowed down and did the same.

"And," he swallowed. "You're making that last part especially very hard for me. You really do look very lovely tonight."

Her eyes widened, her heart started hammering… _Wait_….

She furrowed her brows again. "But," she stammered. "What about Ami…"

His hand flew into his hair, lips popping open, and he turned his gaze skyward for a second, before exhaling harshly and turning back to her.

"Listen... I don't want to date your friend."

Her eyes must have popped open comically wide.

He'd… he'd been looking at her. All night. He had… did that mean…

"Oh..." Usagi said dumbly, forming the 'o' a bit too tightly with her lips. "Why don't you like her…"

"She's perfectly lovely," he said immediately, eyes fixed on her.

She scrunched up her nose. What… "Well maybe you can…"

But he interrupted her. His voice a little tight, a little loud, as if he physically had to push the words out his vocal chords or they wouldn't come. "It's because I want to date _you_."

It slammed into her like a hammer into her chest and she froze.

But his eyes widened. "I meant, I'd like to take you on a date! One! If you'd… if you'd like!"

Then his hand back in his hair, and a softly cursed 'shit', and her eyes must still have looked pretty shocked.

There she stood, in a really awesome outfit, with glitter in her hair, and the most gorgeous man she'd ever laid eyes on, and he maybe, perhaps, actually… really was for _her_…

Her heart had never beat so hard.

And then she curled her hand against his chest, and he froze up, and she could feel _his_ heart was really, really, really beating even harder than hers was.

"You want to date _me_?" she whispered up, and pulled a little on his button border.

He nodded breathlessly, midnight eyes so _wide_, fringe falling across his face mingling into hers as he stooped.

"I really, really, _really_ want to date you..." he breathed against her lips, almost reverently.

_Oh_.

Well then…

With a sharp yank to his shirt, he fell against her lips.

His lips were trembling awfully much, and his hands fluttered up into her hair, against her cheeks, and then the way his lips, chaste and careful and slipping against hers, tasted sweeter than she could have imagined that night on Unazuki's couch... and when she felt his arms around her hips and her feet leave the ground she squealed into his mouth and he huffed a smile against her lips before making her shut up for the longest time, because clearly, he was showing off, clearly, he was giving this his all, _clearly _he was trying to stage a _perfect _first kiss and—

Somehow, in the back of her mind, his kiss felt quite weirdly like coming home. Like something she was supposed to know. Like something she never wanted to forget again.

"Take me on a date then, Chiba Mamoru," she whispered against his lips, all challenge.

His answering smile was all open, terrified, heart-pounding quick nods, before slipping back into open terror.

"Right now?!" he breathed, wide-eyed.

She shrugged with a grin, still in his arms. "Why not?"

And it was much, much later – the sun rising and a pretty, pretty man asleep in her glitter-contaminated bed (dressed! Thank you very much!) – that she finally remembered what Ami had said – and with a giant '_Ohhhh'_ moment, found a message on her phone. Sent at the time she'd been so hurriedly trying to get ready.

Ami-chan, 6:49pm.  
I didn't tell you before, so you wouldn't freak out unnecessarily in advance, and just in case he bailed, but: I'm on my way, and I'm bringing a guest tonight, Usagi-chan. One I think you'll like. One that is very, very much into YOU – NOT me.

* * *

_So, this is the second time I wrote for my lovely QueenRisa, and so I tried to do something different than I did the last time. Drastically different lol, even with the same setup. So, last time you got a gut-wrenching angst filled thing set around a college party, this time you get an utter fluff fest romcom around the same thing. _

_Reviews are love! I'd love to hear what you liked (or IF you liked it, lol)!_

_Also, props to anyone who finds the Easter eggs and can tell me exactly in what kind of universe this story is set ;)_


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